


All's fair in love and war

by becauseitwasreal



Series: All's fair in love and war [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst, Introspection, Lorca is Suffering, semi-graphic descriptions of pain, this basically takes place after Lorca blows up the U.S.S. Buran, this is not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 19:52:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12440421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becauseitwasreal/pseuds/becauseitwasreal
Summary: Lorca finds out that though all's fair in love and war, nothing is ever easy. One-shot inspired by 1x05.





	All's fair in love and war

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Natalia_lives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natalia_lives/gifts).



> For those who give shall receive.

He hardly remembered what had happened since the explosion. It felt as if his eyes were burning into his skull, slowly perforating his brain until there was nothing left of him but smoke and ashes. There was only burning and fire, and the image of his dying crew etched into his memories. He swore he could still hear the screams, even though they had been way too far off for him to hear. They were there nevertheless, haunting him with every troubled step he took.

“Take it easy, sir.”

Lorca wasn’t able to identify the voice, but a weight fell off him. Another ship must have picked him up, and the escape pod hadn’t been captured by the enemy. He felt how they tilted his body, placing him on some cold metal surface. What were they doing to him? When he made the decision to push that button, he had considered the possibility that he would end up in some cold, bleak prison cell. He wondered if that was where he would spend the rest of his days. He couldn’t see, but perhaps it was better like that. Perhaps it was better to remember. Someone was still screaming.

There was a sting, and suddenly the pain lessened. The burning was gone now, and he needed to inform the other captains of what had happened. The ambush, his actions on the battlefield. He was sure he would face the consequences for his actions, but surely he would be given the chance to explain himself. All’s fair in love and war. Even Cornwell had once spoken those wretched words. It was something else when it wasn’t just words, but actions. There would have been so much suffering, so much pain.

He tried to move up, and he thought he could open his eyes now. He was wrong. A bright light was focused on his face, and he saw nothing but fire.

“Off,” he said, his voice cracking under the strain. He hated how incredibly weak he sounded. He was a Starfleet officer, and he hated being out of control.

“You’re safe here.”

The voice didn’t understand. As long as the war was going on, _nowhere_ was safe. And as long as he was here, there was nothing he could do to stop it if he didn’t act. The fire in his eyes would serve as a reminder.

 _Let me go_ , he wanted to say. _There’s so much I have to do, you wouldn’t understand_.

“You’re in the med bay of the U.S.S. Caitlain, sir. We’ll fix you up.”

 _Cornwell’s ship_. _Doctors_.

He didn’t want any doctors touching his eyes.

“No,” was all that came out.

The voice was talking, but he stopped listening. Instead he drowned in a sea of fire, going under against the current and losing breath with every passing second. He didn’t mind the pain anymore. He had done what he had done, and he was the one who had to deal with the consequences. That was nobody else’s business except his own. His eyes, his memories, his crew. His _war_.

There were hands on his body, leaving tingling sensations on his skin. He tried to swat them away, but he found that he didn’t have the strength. He felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness, the waves taking over. He was sinking to the bottom, and there was no rope as the pain grew heavier. No hand. A sudden panic seized him, and with all his might he pushed the voice away from him. He wanted to drown, but he didn’t want to die.

“Relax, sir,” the voice said, and Lorca was pushed down again, needles in his skin until the fire was nothing more than a smouldering red, and he felt completely numb. “Go to sleep.”  

Lorca wanted to protest, to scream, but he couldn’t find the words, couldn’t find his voice. His fingers wouldn’t move, and his legs lay useless on the metal slab. Even the fire wasn’t there to guide him, only his scattered mind, moving in circles and circles, willing the unknown voice to pull him back from the deep, to understand.

“Go to sleep, sir. You need rest.”

 _But there is no time_.


End file.
